97 Drabbles Later
by Rumaan
Summary: A collection of drabbles from tumblr
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: A small little drabble I had rattling around my brain about a young Bellamy meeting a young Clarke back on the Ark. **

* * *

The young girl's voice brought Bellamy out of the stunned shock he was currently encased in, sat next to his mother, clutching desperately at her hand as if he could somehow force her to live. The clear tones of the girl cut through the mental fog of his brain.

For one wild, panic induced moment he thought it was Octavia, somehow found in the crawlspace she hated, but then the girl laughed, and he knew it wasn't his sister. O would not have been laughing for a start. The memory of her tear-streaked face as he had hurried her back into her hiding space flickered in his mind. She had been scared and he had been able to do nothing but give her a quick hug and tell her she had to go back into the small, dark place that she hated, all whilst their mother thrashed on the bed across the room, sweating and muttering incoherently.

Pulling his hand free from his mother's hot, clammy one, Bellamy peeked around the tatty curtain that gave his mother a small measure of privacy in the sick bay. The mass of blond hair lit up the sickbay like a ray of sunshine, pushing the muted grey tones to the corners and filling up the room with a cheerful yellow.

No less bright was the smile on the girl's face, as she trailed behind one of the medical staff, dressed in an oversized white lab coat, the sleeves rolled up several times, and a stethoscope around her neck that dangled to her stomach.

Bellamy caught her eye as she turned with the older woman towards his mother. "This is Ms Blake, honey, she has a viral infection and fever, which led to convulsions and hallucinations." The woman turned towards Bellamy, a soft smile on her face. "Hello, I am Dr Griffin, the Chief Medical Officer."

He stuck his hand out with all the awkwardness of a thirteen year old boy remembering his mom's lessons on good manners.

"I hope you don't mind my daughter being here, Bellamy. It's bring your child to work day on the Gro-Sci station."

It took a moment for Dr Griffin's words to register. They didn't have such days on the Factory Station. Nodding briefly, Bellamy watched as Dr Griffin checked his mother's vital signs, her face giving nothing away, which only served to increase his anxiety.

"Is she going to be okay?" he asked hesitantly.

Giving him a reassuring smile, Dr Griffin said, "The medicine should start to kick in soon and then we will see how she gets on."

Whilst he appreciated the Chief Medical Officer's honesty, Bellamy wished that she had given him a straight forward answer. If his mother didn't pull through, he was not sure how he would be able to keep Octavia hidden. He would be forced to give up their small quarters and move into the orphanage until he was 18. If that happened, what would happen to Octavia? Would she be allowed to go with him? Or would she be put in the Skybox until she turned eighteen when they would float her?

_How could I keep my promise then, Mom?_ He thought. _How could I keep her safe?_

Sweat beaded across his forehead as he contemplated this bleak possibility and he was startled by the small, warm hand that enclosed his.

He looked up into bright blue eyes. "She will get better, I promise you. My mother won't let anything happen to her."

Determination was written across the girl's young face almost as if she would beat death through sheer will alone. She squeezed his hand comfortingly before letting go to follow after her mom.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Written to cheer LondonRainings up**

* * *

Bellamy espied Clarke in the blue feathered mask and set off across the hastily erected dancefloor as if acid fog were chasing him.

"Clarke, thank God," he said, as he reached her side and unceremoniously hauled her onto to the dancefloor, his arm sliding around her waist as he pulled her in close, far closer than friends would usually dance.

"Bellamy?" Clarke asked in a confused tone. "I was about to dance with Miller."

"I'll apologise to him later," he said distractedly. "You have to save me."

Clarke, apparently used to his melodramatic statements, slid her hands up over his shoulders and locked them into place around his neck. He shivered slightly at the way her fingers played with the hair at his nape. "What's up?"

He bent close to her ear so he could quietly murmur his problem and make it look romantic. "See that Grounder over there. That tall strapping one who towers over me by at least half a head," he said, twirling them both around so Clarke could look over his shoulder.

"Mm-hmm," she said.

"She's after me. Keeps going on about how I've proven myself a worthy warrior and mate," he said with a shudder at how difficult it had been to get away.

Clarke's small frame was wracked with silent giggles and he scowled down at her. Unfortunately his mask hid most of it and Clarke had never been phased by his ferocious looks anyway. Her eyes twinkled up at him and she said, "What do you want me to do?"

"Pretend we came together then she might get the hint and leave me alone."

The largest grin he'd ever seen on her face blossomed and he stared down in awe. _Is this how she had looked on the Ark before everything had gone to hell?_ He wondered.

Then she opened her mouth. "Is the big bad Bellamy scared of a Grounder? I thought that's how you had your fun!"

"Ha ha, Clarke. You'd be scared if you were being hounded like this, too," he said grumpily.

"So what do you need from me?" she asked, before she moved sensuously into him, leaning up so her breath ghosted over his cheeks. "For me to stake my claim?"

Bellamy gulped. "Something like that, Princess."

Clarke took one more look over his shoulder before she gave a smile of pure mischief. "I think I can manage that," she said before she pressed her lips against his.

For a split second his head reeled and he could nothing before the reality of just whose tongue was demanding entrance to his mouth hit him. His arms engulfed her, scooping her up against him, and intensifying the kiss.

* * *

Octavia let out a little whoop as she watched her brother and the girl he not so secretly pined for make out on the dancefloor, scandalising the older Sky People present.

Lincoln shook his head at her palpable excitement and handed out the precious vial of medicine, pilfered from the stocks of the Mountain Men, and promised to Skylar if she drove Bellamy into the arms of Clarke.

"I told you he would run scared," Octavia said, as she shook Skylar's hand in thanks.

Lincoln grunted an acknowledgement. He tended not to dwell on Bellamy and his not so subtle dislike of Octavia's relationship with Lincoln.

"Shame," Skylar said. "He's not bad for a Sky Person. I could have bedded him easily. Well, if you have any other of your people I need to scare, Octavia, lead me to them. It's the most fun I've had in ages."

"I'll let you know if Bellamy needs another kick in the right direction," Octavia said with a smug smile of satisfaction as she continued to watch Bellamy and Clarke forget they were standing in the middle of the dancefloor.

"Another vial says she gets his shirt off before they realise they have an audience," Skylar said.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: written for themiddleliddle's prompt: Bellarke + acceptance**

* * *

Clarke wasn't sure quite when it had started but one minute she was talking normally to Bellamy, discussing just what was needed in order for Camp Jaha to survive the winter, and the next minute she had been lovingly charting the spread of freckles down his cheeks.

It had only gotten worse since then.

Her eyes apparently had a life of their own and every time she would see Bellamy, they would find some new part of his anatomy to linger on.

It was becoming embarrassing. Only today she had walked into his tent, wanting to run Raven and Wick's latest idea past him, only to find him shirtless, washing his face in a bowl of water. She had become incoherent at the sight, colour flooding into her cheeks and she had stumbled over an incomplete sentence before she had outright fled. Bellamy's raised eyebrows haunted her for the rest of the day.

Now she sat on a grassy hillock watching as Bellamy drilled his recruits, his ever trusty rifle clutched in his hands as he barked out orders. Since when had she found that appealing?

She groaned.

There was nothing for it, she was going to have to accept the fact that she found Bellamy Blake attractive.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: written for the prompt: Bellarke + Trusting**

* * *

The sweat trickled down Clarke's face as she fought to stem the bleeding.

"He's losing too much blood," she shouted to her mother, who had just pulled aside the fabric covering the mouth of the Medical tent, having been pulled from the Council meeting.

Abby gently manoeuvred Clarke aside, bending over slightly as she scanned and assessed Bellamy with a rapid, keen glance honed from years of dealing with medical emergencies.

"He's going to need a blood transfusion," Abby said.

Clarke stared in horror, images of the small Grounder girl who had died before Clarke could attempt a risky blood transfusion passing through her mind. "We haven't tried to that yet. Not down here."

"There was always going to have to be a first time," Abby said.

"But not on Bellamy, not with Bellamy!" Clarke said, panic making her voice frantic.

She could not lose Bellamy, not now, not with everything that had happened. The 47 were still trapped in Mount Weather and Finn-

Clarke immediately cut her train of thought off. She could not think about that, not now, not when Bellamy needed her.

"Clarke," he said faintly.

She moved to his side, her hand reaching out to clutch his. "Ssh, you're going to be fine, Bell!" she said reassuringly.

"It's the only way, Clarke," Abby said, looking at her from across Bellamy.

Clarke looked down to the wound on Bellamy's thigh that had come close to severing the femoral artery, and had caused huge blood loss.

"I know," she said. "How quickly can I donate blood to him?"

"It doesn't have to be you, Clarke. In fact-"

"We don't have time to find Octavia or someone else," Clarke said urgently.

She spun around to the cabinet where they kept their supplies, fumbling with the drawers, and almost toppling the whole thing over in her haste.

"Clarke!" her mom ordered. "Stop, step aside, and let Jackson find the kit."

Turning once more to face her mom, Clarke said, "You'll let me do it?"

Abby's mouth turned up at the corners. "Have I ever been able to stop you?"

Clarke gave a surprised laugh. "No. No, you haven't."

Clarke didn't know how many hours later it was when Bellamy finally surfaced. She had lost count, dozy herself after enduring the procedure.

She had insisted her mom push a bed up next to his so she could lie there and monitor him as she herself recovered. Abby had frowned at that, but had complied with Clarke's wishes, obviously grateful that her daughter would, at least, be getting some rest.

So, Clarke had lain there, watching Bellamy breath. His skin was still pale, the freckles on his cheeks and nose standing out starkly, but the alarming bone white colour had gone.

"Hey," he said weakly, his eyes connecting with hers.

Irrationally, Clarke's temper erupted and she yelled, "What were you thinking, Bellamy? Putting your body on then line like that! We cannot afford to lose you. Not now!"

She took a deep breath, knowing that the stress and strain of the past few hours was causing her to lash out at him.

His fingers brushed against hers, where they were resting on his bed. She had been monitoring his pulse on and off, not trusting the machine he was hooked up to, and generally just holding his hand, almost as if that would anchor him to her side.

"I trusted you, Princess" he said simply. Her eyes flew up to his and he gave her that little half smile, the one usually reserved for Octavia. "I knew that if I got hurt, you would see me through."

His fingers tangled with hers, entwining themselves as his thumb stroked across the palm of her hand.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Written in the aftermath of the pain the "worth the risk" comment gave me in Remember Me.**

* * *

By the time they made it into Mount Weather, there had been radio silence from Bellamy for two days.

Two days where Octavia did nothing but bug both Lexa and Clarke to _hurry up already_. Lincoln tried to stem her fears, talking about all the places in Mount Weather where Bellamy might have hidden, places where he had no access to a radio, but privately to Clarke he grimaced.

"He promised he'd check in with us twice daily," Lincoln said. "I could live with one missed time but _four_?"

He didn't say any more – he didn't need to. His meaning was all too clear. Not for the first time, Clarke wished that Lincoln wasn't so brutally honest.

When Murphy started joking about how the Mountain Men had probably drained Bellamy first, unable to take the hostile glares and motivational speeches, Clarke had never been so grateful to Raven for her lightning fast sucker punch that had blooded Murphy's nose and left him sulky and sullen for the rest of the day.

But none of these annoyances came close to the sheer agony of when Clarke and her team, led by a frantic Mya and blood curdling screams, burst into the secret laboratory and she saw Bellamy strapped down whilst Dr Tsing drilled into him.

All Clarke could think at that moment was that the risk was not worth it. Not worth_ this_.

Then the red mist descended and Clarke had smashed the butt of her rifle into Dr Tsing's face, noting with satisfaction the crunching sound of bone being broken

Clarke refused to leave Bellamy's side as Abby rushed him out of the dank dungeon room and upstairs to the clean, brightly lit medical facilities reserved for the people of Mount Weather. She shrugged off Lexa's demand that she come and check all her people were there, delegating the task to Raven and Octavia instead. She saw the disappointment in Lexa's eyes, the condemnation that she was weak after all, but Clarke didn't care. If strength was allowing those you needed to be in agony then Clarke would rather be weak.

She stubbornly battled against the bone weary tiredness that caused her eyelids to weigh down and did not give in the temptation of a comfy bed. She would not leave Bellamy's side. She had sent him off and he had nearly died.

* * *

Bellamy woke to the best sight he had seen since they had reached the ground. A mass of blonde hair draped over half his chest and arm as Clarke slept, bent over, her hand still clutching his. At some points during the past few days, he had resigned himself to never seeing her again, which had caused his heart to ache as he came to terms with the startling revelation that he loved her.

He scanned the room and saw the beds filled with sleeping lumps. He spotted Miller, Monty, Harper and Jasper and his anxiety lifted. Their people were safe once more.

With that realisation, Bellamy turned his attention once more Clarke, brushing her hair back and revelling in how soft it felt. His movement stirred her awake and as her sleepy blue eyes met his, he regretted disturbing her. He wondered the last time she had managed a full night's sleep. Probably not since before Finn.

"You're awake," she said, her vow low from sleep.

"Yes, and remarkably in one piece."

She gave a small smile at that before it disappeared and she watched him with eyes so sad they wounded him.

"Hey, it's okay," he said, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. "We got them out. _All_ of them."

"At what cost, Bellamy? You almost _died_."

"But I didn't."

Clarke said nothing for a moment, her eyes dropped down to where she still grasped his hand. Her fingers smoothing along his palm, almost as if she needed to reassure herself that he was actually there.

"I was wrong," she finally said, her eyes meeting his and pleading for forgiveness. "It was not worth the risk."

He reeled back a little, his eyebrows furrowing together as he took in the pain on her face. "No, you were right. It was the right thing to do."

"I would never have forgiven myself if you hadn't made it out."

"But I did. Thanks to you, I did."

Her concern was a balm to his soul. She might not love him but she cared and she still needed him.

Bellamy leant down and kissed her forehead.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Don't ask me why I wrote this - apparently I wanted to hurt myself!**

* * *

Bellamy couldn't believe it when he saw her standing there. He didn't want to believe it.

It had been five months – five long months when he'd worried incessantly about her. If she had made it through the winter. If she'd had run across someone or something she shouldn't and was lying somewhere in a ditch bleeding to death and he couldn't help her.

But, no, apparently she'd been fine and in Polis all along. Whilst he had struggled to heal and lead the forty-one who had made it out of Mount Weather alive, she'd been here amongst the very people who had left them to die. As he'd sat through indeterminable Council meetings knowing that it should be Clarke and not him at the round table - something that had been mirrored in the eyes of both Dr Griffin and Kane. However, it seemed as if Clarke had a different Council she wanted to be part of. Another set of people she wanted to call her own.

Someone else she wanted to love.

He could have accepted it and greeted her with a friendly smile if that lover had been anyone other than _her_.

It had taken the combined efforts of Dr Griffin, Kane and O to get him to go to Polis for these negotiations. His anger had burned long and bright at the breaking of the alliance and all that had followed. It had only been when Octavia had shouted at him and told him that he was only being so stubborn because those actions had meant Clarke leaving. That they needed another truce so they could prepare for the next winter and not lose so many people that he had capitulated and agreed to attend the negotiations.

Oh, he had planned on making them a whole lot more even this time. Make the Commander jump through some hoops this time. Remind Lexa just how she'd left them to die inside the Mountain only to have it blow up in her face. The legend of Clarke of the Sky People had been on the lips of every single Grounder they'd run across and he'd planned on using that to Camp Jaha's advantage.

However, not for the first time since he'd made it down to the ground, the rug had been ripped out from under him. And not for the first time it was Clarke who had done so.

He stared at her as Commander Lexa opened the negotiations, introducing Clarke as her second. It was obvious that there was more than that between them. From the way Lexa looked at her as if she'd hung the moon, the way Clarke couldn't meet his gaze, and the way the rest of the team from Camp Jaha watched him warily out of the corner of their eyes.

Had he been that obvious? Wearing his love for her so openly that everyone – including Clarke – could see?

Clenching his jaw and shutting off his emotions, he stepped forward and spoke on behalf of the Sky People. It had been decided that Bellamy should lead the negotiation team in the absence of Clarke. He might not be the stuff of legend like she was, but he was respected by the Grounders for his actions in infiltrating Mount Weather. A worthy warrior.

Maybe that was all he was cut out to be.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Something nice and fluffy after the pain of the last drabble**

* * *

Clarke wasn't deliberately listening but she couldn't help it. She had already been sitting in the corner furthest away from the dancing when Bellamy had been dragged by his mom just in front of where she was hidden in the shadows.

Before she'd been able to draw attention to herself and escape, the conversation had become personal.

"Bellamy, I'm worried about you!" Aurora said. "You are nearly thirty-four years old and I can't even remember the last serious relationship you had."

"Mom, can we not do this right now?"

"History books do not keep you warm at night and Octavia tells me that you haven't even had any casual relationships in the past two years."

"You've spoken to O about this? You and O have spoken about my _sex life_!" Bellamy exclaimed, outraged.

"It's because we care, Bellamy! I just want to see you happy. When are you going to settle down and have kids? You'd make such a good dad."

"Mom!" Bellamy said, frustration bleeding into his voice and causing him to run an agitated hand through his hair.

"You're going to end up alone if you're not careful. What about Clarke Griffin?"

Clarke stilled at the sound of her name, her hand clutching her glass of wine tightly to stop her from moving further forward to make sure she heard everything clearly.

"Clarke?"

"Yes, Octavia tells me you're pining over her."

"O doesn't know what the hell she's talking about!" he growled.

"I saw the way you looked at her earlier when you walked Octavia up the aisle. It was as if she'd hung the moon. Why don't you ask her out?"

"God, mom, just stop please!"

Aurora looked sadly at Bellamy. "Is it because you don't think you're good enough for her? She might come from money, Bellamy, but she's not that type of person."

"How would you know? You've met her all of three times."

"I can tell," Aurora said blithely. "I was chatting to her earlier. I think she'd say yes if you asked her out."

Bellamy stopped at that and asked. "What makes you say that?"

"Because she looks at you as if there is no one she trusts more."

Bellamy studied his feet for a moment before he mumbled, "I just helped her out through a tough time that's all. She had a bad break up with her ex-girlfriend."

He was right – he had helped her out. He'd been the one person she'd been able to turn to as the relationship with Lexa fell apart unexpectedly. He had been nothing but supportive and she didn't realise just how much she'd come to rely on him in her life until he'd been gone for the past week – helping arrange the last minute details of Octavia's wedding in their home town.

"All I'm saying is that you should go out on the limb. What's the point of pining from afar and watching her fall in love with someone else? Besides, how could anyone turn down those soulful brown eyes and those adorable freckles," Aurora said, pinching his cheeks as if he was still five.

Clarke choked down the laughter.

"Mom!" Bellamy said, swiping her hand away.

"It's true. You're a real catch, Bellamy. I just wish you realised that."

"Oh look, O needs me!" Bellamy said, taking the opportunity of his sister beckoning him to run away from his mother and the conversation.

Clarke watched as Aurora gazed after her son, a fond smile on her face, and then jumped as the other women turned to face her and said, "You'd be a fool if you said no."

Winking at her, Aurora then disappeared back into the crowd of people on the dancefloor leaving Clarke to stare dumbfounded after her.


	8. Chapter 8

It was said that you knew who your soulmate was in the flash of a second. It was as soon as you felt what they were feeling and heard their thoughts. It didn't necessarily happen the moment you met them. It could happen weeks, months, even years later.

When she was younger, Clarke had waited for that moment to come with Wells. Everyone had said they were bound to be soulmates because they were perfect for each other. The couple who would lead the Ark back to the ground.

Well, people had had got that last point right, but it hadn't been in circumstances anyone could have imagined. However, the special connection had never materialised even on the ground and then, in the blink of an eye, Wells was gone.

Clarke had wondered if it would happen with Finn. He was everything she liked: kind, compassionate, caring and he made her laugh. But then Raven had crashed to Earth, Finn had shot up a village of innocent people in her name, and everything Clarke thought she had known about him had turned out to be wrong.

For a brief second, as she slid the knife home, she held her breath just in case. Would she hear his last thoughts, feel his last emotions? For a tiny moment, she felt nothing but relief as he died in her arms without this happening before the anguish of what she had done flooded through her.

Clarke was sure it would happen with Lexa. A connection quickly sprung up between them and she searched her own mind eagerly for anything that had emanated from Lexa.

Then, for one heart-breaking moment, standing outside of the mountain, she was sure she felt something. It was nothing of love or desire but instead a feeling of intense unease and sadness, and then Lexa had betrayed her, turned her back on the alliance that they had both fought so hard for and Clarke felt nothing but her own disgust.

It was then that she had decided that she was done with the idea of soulmates. That one instant of pain had been too much for Clarke. She thought of her father and of how his soulmate of decades had betrayed him and of how much that must have destroyed him. Clarke knew she could not live with that kind of pain.

It was not until she returned, almost a year later, to Camp Jaha that it happened. The overwhelming happiness at being home hadn't felt out of place. It was not until the clear voice whispering, "Clarke?" had sounded loudly in her own head that she had any inkling that this was something different, something new.

Her eyes met Bellamy's and she could see the same amazement and wonder in his eyes that pulsed through her own body and suddenly she could not tell where her emotions ended and his began.

And just like that her soulmate had snuck up on her, unforeseen and unexpected but most welcome.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: I asked for The Great British Bake Off prompts to build up for the final that aired yesterday. The prompt for this one was: Bellarke, the you stole / accidentally took my pastry gbbo au? Pls**

* * *

_Week 3: Pastry Week_

"That was _my _puff pastry," Clarke said, stabbing him in the chest with her finger violently.

"I'm sorry, Princess, but I have no idea what you're talking about," Bellamy said disinterestedly.

"That was my puff pastry you stole and then you got all these great remarks about how perfect your puff pastry was whilst I was left dealing with your crappy excuse for pastry."

He frowned as he looked at her before he glanced quickly around the room where the contestants were clearing away and chatting after yet another stressful week under the gaze of Paul and Mary.

"And you assume that I took it. You know what they say about assumptions, Princess."

"It was you," she said angrily. "We were sharing a fridge, so it had to be you."

"If you say so," he said dismissively before he walked off leaving Clarke seething even more than she had been before she'd confronted him.

Bellamy Blake was a pastry stealing arse!

_Week 10: The Final_

Clarke couldn't believe she was going to lose this final because she hadn't got the timings right on her showstopper. There was no way she could pipe the decorative icing onto the biscuits and start construction in the half an hour they had left.

"I'll finish the piping. You move your arse on building that mountain," Bellamy said, coming over from his own workstation and taking the bag of icing from her fingers.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. "This is the final! You don't have time to help me out."

He gave her his patented 'whatever the hell I want' look before he bent his head and started working on her biscuits.

Clarke stared at him for a long moment trying to work his game out. The Great British Bake Off was probably the friendliest competition on TV, but this series the contestants had been a lot more competitive than usual. There had been a lot less helping going on and lot more anxious glances at what everyone else was doing. So what the hell was Bellamy Blake doing?

"You're wasting time," Bellamy commented, continuing to pipe the decoration onto _her_ biscuits.

Shrugging her shoulders a little, Clarke couldn't figure out how he was sabotaging her, so got on with constructing her bake.

"I don't understand why you're doing this because helping me guarantees that you'll lose," she remarked.

"I can't win this, anyway," he said. "It's between you and Lexa, and I'd much rather you won."

Clarke didn't know why. She hadn't exactly been very nice to Bellamy since the pastry incident. She'd made snide comments about his bakes and rejoiced a little every time he'd been criticised by the judges. In fact, she even wanted the odious Cage to get into the final over him. It seemed she had been doing Bellamy a massive disservice.

Briefly glancing over to Lexa's station, Clarke could see her former sort-of flame furiously working to get her own bake in order. Lexa was throwing angry looks over to where Bellamy was helping Clarke out and it was throwing her off her own game.

"There," Bellamy said, lying the piping bag down with a flourish. "Your biscuits – all decorated as required!"

Looking over them, Clarke couldn't tell which ones she'd piped and which ones he had, that's how good a job he'd done. She had worried that perhaps he'd do a sloppy job on purpose but apparently he was telling the truth when he said he'd rather she won.

She flashed him a grin and said, "Thanks a lot for the help."

He smiled back at her and said conspiratorially, "Anyone but Lexa! She's a fucking shark!"

Clarke wanted to disagree out of some sort of loyalty, but she couldn't. Lexa was by far the most competitive person here and had broken up with Clarke the night before the Semis, claiming that being involved with each other as the competition became so serious could lead to weakness. Clarke had vehemently disagreed, but wasn't going to give Lexa the satisfaction of begging her to stay.

_After the Final_

"Congrats," Bellamy said, tapping his glass of champagne against hers. "That makes you the youngest ever champion."

"Couldn't have done it without you, to be honest," she admitted.

He nodded but didn't say anything else.

"Did you do it because you stole my pastry?" she asked, unable to swallow the question back any longer.

He looked at her. "I didn't steal your pastry. I told you that."

"Bellamy!" she said irritated. "The competition is over, you can tell me the truth. I'm not even going to be mad. I won!"

He gave her a disappointed look. "If I stole you pastry, I'd tell you I'd stolen your pastry, but I didn't. I don't need to steal anything from anyone. My puff pastry is better than anyone else's on this show _including _yours."

"If you didn't steal it then who did?"

"Why don't you ask Lexa that question," he said, walking away.

Clarke was left staring after him with a sinking feeling that maybe she'd judged him incorrectly this entire time.

_A Week after the Final_

Clarke was still pretty annoyed with herself for getting it all so wrong. She had been sure that it must have been Bellamy who'd stolen her pastry, but it turned out that it _was_ Lexa, who'd been pretty unrepentant when challenged about it. Winning at all costs was Lexa's mantra and she'd always known this so she didn't get to be angry about it when it turned out Lexa would sabotage her in order to get through Pastry Week.

But Clarke had a burning need to apologise to Bellamy. She didn't like that he'd left the post-show celebration thinking poorly of her. She also didn't want to delve too closely into why this mattered so much to her.

So, she'd asked another contestant who'd been friendly with Bellamy for his number. Maya had handed it over with a knowing look.

_Clarke 11:34am_

_Hi, it's Clarke. I hope you don't mind but Maya gave me your number._

_Bellamy: 11:35am_

_Hey. What's wrong?_

_Clarke: 11:37am_

_I wanted to apologise for accusing you of stealing my pastry._

_Bellamy: 11:38am_

_So the real culprit confessed?_

_Clarke: 11:39am_

_Yeah, she didn't even act sorry about it._

_Bellamy: 11:40am_

_Told you she was a fucking shark._

Clarke took a deep breath debating on whether she should send the next message or not. It would be more than reasonable if he turned her down. She'd hadn't exactly covered herself in glory in how she'd behaved towards him.

_Clarke: 11:42am_

_So can I buy you dinner to apologise?_

_Bellamy: 11:43am_

_No._

She deflated on receiving the message and in the midst of typing out an understanding message when another one came through.

_Bellamy: 11:44am_

_But you can take me out on a date._

Her lips twitched in amusement.

_Clarke: 11:45am_

_Arse!_

_Bellamy: 11:46am_

_;)_


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: Another GBBO AU - the prompt was:**** I'm in charge of clean up for the show and you are by far the messiest contestant I have ever had the displeasure to clear up after… you're also apparently adequate enough at baking that this has been going on for weeks now so this is becoming problem… the moment I work up the nerve to talk to you about it you exhibit the level of assholishness I have come to expect from you**

* * *

Out of all the contests, Bellamy didn't understand how he'd been lumbered with cleaning up after Clarke fucking Griffin. Her station at the end of each challenge was a disaster. It didn't look as if she'd spent a couple of hours baking, but as if she'd waged war on the ingredients and decided that genocide was the only way to go.

At the end of every evening, he'd watch his cleaning colleagues finish up and go out for a drink, celebrating the weekend as it should be celebrated. However, he was always a couple of hours behind them because of Clarke _fucking _Griffin.

He found himself willing her to be eliminated each week, which might mean he was out of a job, but at least he wouldn't be scraping dried out dough from between the hob and the work surfaces with a toothbrush any more.

By week 6, Bellamy was thoroughly fed up with his life and decided to confront her. He arrived on set an hour early and watched as they finished taping the show. He had to admit that Clarke's showstopper was a piece of art – one that he both wanted to gaze at forever and stuff in his mouth all at the same time.

As she was gathering her things, ready to leave for another week, he came up to her.

"What do you _do_ to your station every week?" he demanded, hands on his hips.

She looked around her and he thought he could detect a slightly guilty look on her face, but then she took in his aggressive stance and her eyebrow raised and her mouth pursed.

"And you are?"

"Bellamy, the person assigned to clean up after you."

"Shouldn't you be happy then that I give you stuff to do," she said snootily.

_Stuck up bitch_, he thought.

"Yeah, I'm paid a fixed fee so it's not like I'm getting any overtime cleaning up your pigsty of a station," he hit back.

Her face hardened at his words. "I'm baking to win this thing, not to try and soothe your sensibilities. If you hate cleaning so much then get a different job."

It was a sentence that only a rich person could come out with. Someone who'd never known the hardship of job hunting and how hard it could be to find something that paid decently.

"We can't all afford to be choosy, _Princess,_" he sneered at her.

For a brief moment, he thought there was a hint of an apology in her eyes, but it was soon gone and she cut him a filthy look before she grabbed her bag and stormed out of the tent.

Bellamy sighed. That hadn't gone quite according to plan, but at least he'd managed to get some of his frustration out by shouting at her.

Almost as if by spite, her station was an even worse mess the next weekend. There was no point him complaining so instead he scrubbed angrily and thought of all the reasons he had taken this third job.

_Do it for O_, he chanted to himself.

By the time the final came around, Bellamy was still staying an hour or so after the rest of his colleagues, but it did seem as if Clarke had made an effort to be a little cleaner as she baked. The past couple of weekends, the work station hadn't been quite as messy.

The contestants were all still in the tent as the cleaning team arrived. They were gathered around, sharing a bottle of champagne and patting Clarke on the back. She must have won then.

As the other two finalists left, Clarke made her way back to her station. He eyed her curiously as she approached.

"I wanted to apologise," she said. "I was really rude the other week. It's not an excuse, but you caught me on a really bad day. I just missed out on being eliminated. I guess I took it out on you which is completely inexcusable."

Bellamy nodded. He knew all about tempers getting the better of you. His had done so frequently when he was first in charge of Octavia.

"Apology accepted," he said.

"I baked you these, too, to say sorry. I don't know if you ever get to sample any of the stuff we make, so I made you a selection of things."

He took the cake tin she held out and smiled. It was a pretty thoughtful thing to do. They didn't get to taste any of the baked goods, which they all grumbled about.

"Thanks," he said smiling, taking the tin from her hand and storing it in one of the drawers. "That's really nice of you."

"I didn't want to leave with you thinking I was some stuck up bitch," she said with a grin.

"Opinion reversed," he retorted.

"Well, thanks for your hard work in keeping my stations so spotless."

"Your welcome. Congrats on your win!"

She smiled and waved as she left and he gazed after a little fondly.

It wasn't until he got home that he discovered she'd put her number in the tin as well.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: Written for the prompt: **Could you please write: You come up to my door in the middle of a sea of children, aren't you a little old to be trick-or-treating? for Bellarke

* * *

Clarke couldn't help the laugh that burst from her lips as she opened the door to the crowd of adorable little girls all dressed as various Disney princesses and then to Bellamy, the guy she was flirting with at their part-time job as baristas. And who was now dressed as Prince Charming.

"Trick or treat!" the girls chorused excitedly.

"Well, well, well, don't you look dashing, Bellamy Blake," she said after smiling at the girls.

A slight flush mounted his cheeks, making his freckles look even more adorable than usual.

"Hi, Clarke," he said in reply.

"Trick or treat," one of the little girls said once more, holding her bucket out, clearly not wishing to indulge Clarke in her bad flirting techniques.

"Uh-uh," she said, "No one gets candy until he says trick or treat too!"

"Yeah, not going to happen," Bellamy. "I'm just the chaperone.

"The chaperone in costume," she replied. "That means you're trick or treating – despite the fact that you're far too old for this!"

Bellamy folded his arms mulishly across his chest and Clarke really tried to not check out his ridiculously muscled arms but failed.

One of the girls who had dark brown bangs and a fierce look in the blue eyes said, "Say it, Bell."

His stubborn stance dissipated under the gaze and he rubbed the back of his neck. "O, don't encourage her."

The girl folded her arms in a much more impressive display of stubbornness and Bellamy soon capitulated. This must be his little sister, Octavia. He spoke about her a lot at work and Clarke could see the family resemblance. It was also more than a little endearing that he would take her and a group of her friends out trick or treating _and _dress up for it.

Clarke decided to stop dancing around her attraction to him and go for it the next time she saw him. Hopefully at Miller's party later that night.

"Trick or treat," he said sulkily.

"See, that wasn't too hard," she replied cheekily.

Clarke gave the girls big handfuls of candy with a grin on her face, saving the biggest handful of the best candy for Octavia as congratulations for being more stubborn that her big brother.

"No bucket?" she asked Bellamy with faux innocence.

He shot her a glare that made her grin all the wider.

Later that night at Miller's party, Clarke was glad she'd dragged the Cinderella outfit from the back of her closet. It had been a misguided gift from her soon-to-be stepdad, Marcus Kane, whose idea of presents for girls were very gender specific and seemed to stop around the age of eight. Still, at least it was a replica of the dress from the new live action Cinderella film, so it was a little more grown-up than most of the princess costumes, and the blue matched her eyes perfectly.

As she spotted Bellamy across the room, her gamble that he would be wearing the same costume paid off and she let out a sigh of relief.

"Trick or treat," she whispered in his ear.

He spun round and eyed her dress with raised eyebrows. "I'm going to have to go with treat, Princess."

"Good. I was hoping you'd say that," she said as she leant up to kiss him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: Basically I wanted Bellamy dressed as Jon Snow because favourites dressed as favourites!**

**Mentions of A_ Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones_spoilers regarding Jon's parentage.**

* * *

"Mother of Dragons? How predictable, princess."

Clarke rolled her eyes before she turned round to see Bellamy Blake, eyebrow raised in amusement at the paper mache Drogon perched menacingly on her shoulder. She had Rhaegal and Viserion attached to her dress so it looked as if they were climbing up her. She'd been pleased with the overall effect until Bellamy bloody Blake had made it seem generic.

"Khaleesi not princess," she corrected.

It was his turn to roll his eyes.

Then Clarke took a moment to check out what Bellamy had come as and she cackled gleefully.

"Jon Snow? You came as _Jon Snow_?"

"So?"

"And you called me predictable. Yet out of every character in Game of Thrones, you chose the bastard with a chip on his shoulder about his status and who risks everything to go to save his little sister."

Bellamy's cheeks flushed at her words. "I like Jon Snow," he said sulkily.

"And I like Daenerys," she retorted smugly.

"I feel like this is how the canonical first meeting is going to go," Monty stage whispered to Miller.

Raven shot them a dismissive glance from where she sat on Wells' lap eating peeled grapes masquerading as eyeballs. "Just get a room," she said. "They'll fuck in the books and you'll fuck too, so might well get it over and done with."

Clarke turned a frosty glare on her best friend's girlfriend, while Wells just buried his face in Raven's neck, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

She opened her mouth to deny it, but Raven held her hand up and said, "Don't start with the denials. You two have it so bad for each other that it's become boring. Stop the sniping and just get it on already."

Turning her head to face Bellamy, Clarke met his gaze. They looked at each other uncomfortably for a moment before heading to opposite ends of the room.

The door swung open, revealing Octavia dressed as Imperator Furiosa, Lincoln at her back as Max. She stopped on the threshold and shook her head in disappointment at her friends who were just sitting around with the music at low volume. "I thought this was meant to be a party, guys?"

A couple of hours later, when the party was in full swing, Wells swung the door of his bedroom open and let out a horrified shriek at the sight that met his gaze.

"On my bed, Clarke?! Gross!"

He hurriedly shut the door on his naked best friend who was astride an equally naked Bellamy Blake before he returned to the kitchen, fished fifty dollars out of his wallet and slapped it in Raven's hand.

Her eyebrows rose as she looked at the money.

"You called it. They were totally turned on by their matching costumes and we need to change the sheets."

Raven grimaced but she pocketed the money anyway.

Miller sipped on his beer thoughtfully before he said, "Let's hope Clarke doesn't turn out to be Bellamy's aunt as well."

"Let's leave the fucked up incest to George Martin, please Miller!" Raven replied.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: Written for the prompt: Alright, here's your alternative bedsharing prompt: would you please get comfortable and go to sleep already" for Bellarke, because obviously ;)**

The mattress moved _again_ as Bellamy shifted once more. Clarke opened one incredibly tired eye and glared at him. He was now on his back after apparently not getting comfortable on either side or his front.

"Would you _please_ get comfortable and go the fuck to sleep already," she growled at him.

They had driven the better part of two days to get to Monty and Miller's wedding, the whole group of them hiring a van and driving down to Monty's home town, where the wedding was going to be held. The Greens and the Jordans were also kindly putting up Miller, his family and close friends as the small little rural town didn't have many places to stay. However, it had meant people bunking together in rooms.

Clarke and Bellamy were sharing a small little room that just about fitted a double bed in it, which she really had not thought would be a problem until Bellamy had started tossing and turning and generally stopping her from sleeping.

He shifted again, this time on his side and facing her and said, "I can't get comfortable."

"I suggest you find a position you can sleep in and fast," she threatened. "I will kick you – _hard_ – if you keep this up."

He observed her face and obviously did not think she was serious because he turned over once more. He really should've known better, everyone in their circle of friends knew how important sleep was to Clarke. Put it down to the nature of her shift work at the hospital, but when she went to bed, she expected to sleep and many a roommate had paid the consequences for not realising this.

Her foot shot out and kicked him hard in the back of knee.

"Dammit, Clarke! What was that for?"

"I warned you," she said unrepentantly as he turned his head over his shoulder to scowl at her.

"I didn't think you meant it."

"Obviously, I did. Now. Go. To. Sleep," she said.

He muttered something but seemed to settle down, which allowed her to relax once more into the pillow and allow her eyelids to droop shut.

Then he sighed and wiggled his hips.

Clarke's eyes shot open angrily and she hissed, "If you don't stop moving this instant, I'm going to send you to swap with Maya."

He turned over to face her, his eyes wide with horror. "You wouldn't."

"Just try me, Bellamy!"

Everyone knew the horror stories about Jasper. He sleep like a terror; his limbs flailing around and every now and again, he would shout out in his sleep. He also liked to have a night light, stating that growing up in the middle of the country had left him with a fear of total darkness. No one quite understood how Maya put up with it. She claimed it was an eye mask, ear plugs and an ability to sleep through anything.

Bellamy eyed her speculatively, a look she recognised from when he wanted to ask her something but was afraid of what her answer would be.

"What is it?"

"I normally sleep clutching a pillow," he said hopefully, with a pair of puppy dog eyes.

She sighed. _Of course _Bellamy was a snuggler.

"Get over here then."

Giving her a big grin, he pulled her close and buried his face into her hair. Resting her head on his shoulder, she breathed in the clean and slightly musky smell that she always enjoyed when she borrowed a hoodie or something.

_This is nice,_ she thought. She and Bellamy did easy affection, a hug here and there, sometimes a kiss on the cheek, but she had never been this close to him. She realised it was something she could get used to.

"Happy now?" she asked, but only received the slow deep breathing of someone asleep for a response.

Clarke finally drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: written for the prompt **"**Ask me again if pigeons have feelings, I dare you" for bellarke?**

**Yeah, I don't really know what this is!**

* * *

Bellamy finds her completely by accident. The negotiation team that is off to see Roan of the River Clan gets scattered and separated after an attack from some fucking giant mutant gorilla that appears impervious to bullets. If he hadn't been down here for six months already then he'd probably have been surprised, but it takes a lot to surprise him these days.

Like finding Clarke, kitted out in Grounder clothes and braids, stalking through the undergrowth.

"Clarke?" he asks stunned at setting eyes on her for the first time in four months.

She whips round at the sound of his voice and then sprints over to him, claps her hand over his mouth and pulls him down.

Glaring at her, Bellamy pulls her hand away and is about to angrily ask her just what the hell she thinks she's doing, when voices are heard on the other side of the dense shrubbery.

They are talking in Trigedasleng, which Bellamy still hasn't come to grips with, but from the intent way Clarke is listening, he can tell that she has. So he decides to watch her instead of concentrating on the conversation he can't understand.

She's thinner than the last time he saw her and she appears encrusted in a layer of dirt that you only get from days and days on end in the woods. She's also not in the same clothes he last saw her in, so she must have been in contact with some of the Grounder clans around here. Her hair and make-up is done their way too.

The voices taper off as the people move on and Clarke motions for him to follow her. She's silent as she leads him somewhere; no longer clumsy with her footsteps. The way she walks reminds him of Lincoln. It is obvious that she's at ease in the woods, that they have become her sanctuary, the same way they offered an escape for Lincoln when he was unhappy with things in TonDC.

Clarke leads him to a small bunker. It's been camouflaged on the outside so he assumes that it's her hideout, and it's very Clarke as she takes him down. There's random bits of paper and pencils scattered about and she's drawn some kind of mural on one of the walls. It's the dropship camp and judging by the bold smirk on his face, it's from the early days when the most they had to worry about was foraging for food and if the Ark was going to come down. He supposes, despite his asshole behaviour, that it's a reminder of happier times; certainly a lot less bleak than the war against the Grounders and Mount Weather.

On another wall, there's some kind of memorial mural. Wells is there, dead centre with Finn flanking him one side and Fox the other with more of the kids they lost around them. He looks quickly away from that.

"What was that about?" he asks, after he'd finished staring at where she'd been holed up.

"Nice to see you, too, Bellamy," she replies with an uncertain smile.

It's strange setting eyes on her once more and he struggles to decipher his emotions. Resentment is there, bubbling close to the surface and it's that which he lets out first. "You knew where I was," he tells her coldly.

He regrets his words as she shrinks in on herself. Yeah, he's pissed that she just walked away, but looking around her living quarters and the shrine she's painted on the walls, he's probably had the better last four months.

Clarke turns away and fusses with something and he puts his hand on her shoulder. "I'm not interested in shouting at you," he says. "But I am curious at why you were stalking those Grounders."

"You were going to see Roan, right?" she asks.

He nods.

"Those are a couple of his warriors. They were looking for you. Apparently they saw the _Pauna_ and are worried that it attacked you."

"Well, they were right," he says before continuing, "But it's that important they find us?"

"Yeah, Roan is ambitious and unhappy with the alliance since Mount Weather. He didn't get any of his people back alive and he thinks Lexa should have gone for blood rather than an alliance with the Wallaces."

She flinches as she mentions Lexa's name and he squeezes her shoulder in support. He's heard all about how close she got to Lexa and the Commander's betrayal on the mountainside angers him once more as he sees how affected Clarke remains by it.

"What's that got to do with us?"

"If he can get you to agree an alliance with him then he can make a move against Lexa. Any side the Sky People back carries much more weight since the mountain."

This was something he already knew. He'd been dealing for alliance requests from separate clans for the past two months. He, Kane and Abby had been keen to hear all offers and had yet to make a formal agreement with any of them. The last thing Camp Jaha needed was to be dragged into a clan war that had nothing to do with them.

"Yeah, we figured as much," he replies.

"You need to be careful with Roan," Clarke says. "He's tricky and he'll do anything he can to get what he wants. Once I heard you were coming to treat with him personally, I've been scouting the area. I wouldn't put it past him to hold you hostage or something."

Warmth floods his chest at her words. She had been looking out for him, still had his back despite everything. However, panic soon follows. Miller and Monroe had been amongst the guard party sent with him. "Will he grab any of the others?" he asks urgently.

She shakes her head. "No, he wanted a Council member," she says and eyes the council pin on his jacket.

He gives her a self-conscious smile. She's heard his thoughts on the Council many a time, and yet here he is, a member of it now.

"I'm glad they put you on there," she says softly. "You can offer Camp Jaha a lot."

"So can you," he says impulsively, unable to keep the words back.

Clarke looks away nervously but he continues on, "Your mom misses you, Clarke, we all do. When are you coming home?"

"I'm not sure I have a home anymore."

"Bullshit," he says vehemently. "Camp Jaha is always waiting for you when you are ready."

He infuses his voice with all the hope that she is ready to come home now and knows she hears it when she catches his eye and gives him a miniscule nod.

They spend the rest of the evening catching up on the various Grounder politics. Clarke has a lot of information that Camp Jaha doesn't and vice versa. Between them they are able to get a pretty good picture of what each clan is thinking right now. It strengthens his determination to keep his people out of the mess because it's setting up to be a shit storm.

It's late when he starts yawning and Clarke looks at him with affection and he realises just how much he's missed this. Missed talking things out with her, but also just the way she can make him feel loved through the smallest of glances. The rest of the forty-two appreciate him, but it's tinged with admiration and respect because they look up to him as their leader. Clarke never has. They've always been equals and they've always looked to take care of each other as such.

"Come on," she says. "Let's get some sleep. In the morning, we'll find the rest of the party and go back to Camp Jaha afterwards."

Bellamy freezes at her words. "You're coming back with me?"

Clarke looks down shyly, an expression so alien on her that he almost doesn't recognise it. "You said I could," she replies apprehensively.

"I wasn't sure you would take me up on the offer," he says candidly.

There's only one small bed, topped with furs in the bunker and he goes to set up a makeshift bed on the floor when she drags him down with her. "Don't be stupid, Bellamy," she says with a roll of her eyes. "That floor is concrete, you'll never get to sleep."

Shrugging, he shucks his boots off. He's not foolish enough to think that two people cannot share a bed without sex, although the thought of kissing her enters his mind when she snuggles close to him. It's been a while since he had anyone in his bed and Clarke had always fascinated him.

However, it's obvious that she's just craving human touch at this point and he wonders how long it's been since she actually spoke to another person. He knows she's had contact with Grounders, she told him so herself, has even seen Lexa, but she's never more than a few days in each village. She had confessed that every time she was addressed was _Wanheda _she wanted to scream. His arm tightens around her shoulders at the thought of just how lonely her existence seems to have been.

His fears are confirmed when she suddenly asks, "Do you think pigeons have feelings?"

Bellamy takes a moment to make sure he actually understood her before he bursts out in laughter. "Are you kidding me?"

"What? It's a legitimate question," she replies and he can feel her smile pressing into his shoulder.

Pressing a kiss on the top her head, he says, "All that question proves is that you have been alone for far too long."

Clarke lifts her head and catches his gaze, her eyes full of hope, and says, "But not anymore."

There's a definite feeling of anticipation between them, it's so strong he can almost taste it. But now is not the time to act on anything so he settles for pulling her close and replies, "Not anymore."


End file.
